As the umpteenth film where a white person engages in actions that improve the lives of non-white people (see The Blind Side (2009)), McFarland USA (2015) runs the risk, superficially, of fitting into what’s referred to as “white messiah” or “white savior” territory.

Fortunately, it is spared that classification thanks to the careful and ethnically-cognizant direction of Niki Caro. The talented director most known for Whale Rider (2002) demonstrates “a feeling for minority communities, and her empathy for the students of McFarland High and, equally important, their hardscrabble families, give this a caring, emotional core,” writes Kenneth Turan of the LA Times.

Niki Caro made her own comments regarding the trope, telling Huffington Post, “We were very conscious of not making a white savior movie, and you could have with the material, but it was really important for us that he be a flawed guy who was ultimately redeemed by the community. You see him become a better coach, a better father and a better man through his interaction with this place and these people.”

For Caro, the point of this story is that Jim White needed saved as much as his students. The values he gains from living in an ethnically different community are equally important to the beneficial life lessons his runners receive from him.

That is the essence of what separates McFarland USA from other “white messiah” narratives. Kevin Costner’s character Jim White finds himself in a part of the country he doesn’t understand, surrounded by people to whom he can’t relate. He’s forced to learn about family and community through his students. There’s a reciprocity to everything that makes White as much of an underdog to root for as the kids he’s coaching. He’s far from a paragon of success the way the Tuohys of The Blind Side were, with their “we have everything and will spread some of that onto you” mentality. White is a man out of options, at the end of his rope, struggling in his own right, alongside his minority companions. He wasn’t even a cross country coach on purpose—it’s just something he happened into. He’s not an experienced or skilled coach; he’s a man who recognized his students are disciplined and determined because of their lifestyles and upbringing by agricultural workers. All he does is convince them to translate that discipline into other things, and look beyond the almond fields.

“The white-man-as-savior trope is also mitigated by the fact that the kids are feisty and completely unimpressed by their coach,” observes Stephen Farber of the Hollywood Reporter. “So mentor and students learn from each other in a rather predictable but still pleasing story arc. Sharply observed details invigorate the movie. Caro and her crew get a very lived-in feeling to the scenes in ethnic neighborhoods.”

And those ethnic neighborhoods are the source of much of the kids’ help—not Jim White and his supposed “white messiah” resources. When the team needs uniforms, White isn’t spreading his privileged money around because it does’t exist. Instead, the community ralies to wash cars and sell enchiladas as a fundraiser.

“This isn’t a story about the haves helping the have-nots. It’s a story about a bunch of have-a-littles helping each other make do,” writes Brandon Ambrosino of The Vox.

However, Jim White does still exist in a level of privilege above his students. He doesn’t have to get up at 5am to go pick crops before going to work. His family doesn’t thrive or die based on picking fields.

The film realizes this privilege by having White appreciate the reality of the Latino community’s lives. He spends time picking with them in the fields and, before their big race, gives a pep talk that proves this respect: “They haven’t got what you’ve got. They don’t get up at dawn like you and go to work in the fields. They don’t go to school all day and then go back to those same fields. That’s what you do. And then you come out with me and you run eight miles, 10 miles and you take on even more pain. These kids don’t do what you do. They can’t even imagine it.”

The Vox notes, “Jim’s acknowledgement of his own privilege actually prevents the kind of self-congratulatory response the White Savior trope usually invites. Too often, stories like this offer white audience members the easy out of believing they, too, would offer a helping hand to a good kid in need, rather than trying to understand just why that good kid was in need — and they were not — in the first place. Jim, in contrast, isn’t giddy that he helped disenfranchised kids succeed — he’s actually slightly embarrassed that, by virtue of his skin color, he won’t know the hardships his students endure daily. Of course, this realization doesn’t mean he’s overcome his privilege, and it doesn’t mean he won’t continue to enjoy certain benefits related to whiteness. But it does cultivate in him the one quality that can most actively combat privilege — humility.”